| Happy Mother's Day To me, the humble Lily of the Valley is a great representation of motherhood. They don't draw attention but they make you feel wonderful and loved with their amazing fragrance. We celebrate Mother's Day once a year but we feel their unconditional love every day. My mom is in Heaven but she lives in my heart. Let me share some exciting news This blog-hop is not only a fun way to discover new authors, but you can win Gift Cards too. Click to read the details I published two books recently A thought-provoking, futuristic, romantic short story. Will people feel the emotions of loss in the future as deeply as we do today? How far will they be willing to go in finding the happiness they lost? Caleb lost his Valerie. Will he find her? Available on many publishing sites in eBook for introductory price: 99 cents Click to buy A short excerpt from the book The bright Spring sun bathed the budding trees with warm sunshine and tickled the grassroots to life. Petals fallen from the magnolia tree covered the ground, but the slight breeze sent chills through Valerie. The young, slender woman with long, brown hair wrapped herself inside a warm sweater. When she reached her destination in the secluded corner of the cemetery, tears welled up in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the name, Caleb Winston, carved into the marble gravestone. Everyone keeps telling me I should be over the mourning period by now. She thought, sighing deeply. As she sat down on the bench by the side of the grave, she let the tears fall for the first time in a week. She allowed herself to cry only when she’d made her weekly walk to the cemetery. She hid her sadness and tears from her family and friends. They kept telling her she was only eighteen and had her whole life ahead of her, so there was no reason for her to hold on to the boy she once loved. They aren’t the ones who lost the only person they could ever imagine loving. Such was her thought as she ran her tongue over her upper lip, tasting the salty tears. She fished a handful of tissues from her purse, wiped her face and blew her nose, whispering under her breath, “None of them believe in soulmates, Cal, and I can’t get them to listen to me when I try to tell them what it was like between us. Not even my sisters understand. Mom and Dad keep telling me there’s someone else out there for me, and I know they’re saying it in the belief it should help, but it doesn’t. It just makes me think of you more, and of the future, we planned together before it all fell apart.” A short story collection A collection of humorous anecdotes, heartwarming stories, and slice-of-life tales that evoke a wide range of emotions. Short stories about life’s humorous, happy, and dark moments. Some of the stories are from my years in nursing, Steve's clumsiness and my cooking disasters might make you spit out your coffee laughing. The stories of my pets will put a warm smile on your face, and the stories about life's darker moments might make you wipe a tear or two. Click to buy A story from the book As a young nurse in Hungary, I worked in the pediatric unit for a short while. Johnny was a nine-year-old cute as a button little boy who had leukemia. The medications and treatments wiped him out physically and emotionally, but he still had a sweet smile for everyone who entered his room. Restrained sobs choked me every time I saw his pale, angelic little face and heard him say, “Hello, beautiful. Give me that shot quickly and tell me a story.” (His father was a flirt and he imitated him by calling the nurses beautiful or gorgeous.) Our storytelling sessions started when he had a very bad day after chemo, and the medications didn’t work to suppress his nausea and headache. All I could do was sit by his bed, hold his hand and wait for the stronger medication to kick in. To break the silence and get his attention away from heaving and pain, I started reciting a fairy tale. “Once upon a time...” As I continued the story, his breathing slowed, and he hung onto every word, seemingly forgetting his pain and misery for a few minutes. The story with medicine became our routine. One morning, because I didn’t remember any more fairy tales that I had read as a child, I started telling him my childhood memories. One of my fondest memories was how my best friend and I saved four drowning kittens when a cruel neighbor threw them into the river. Johnny grew weaker and weaker and could listen to the story only a few minutes at a time, but he remembered the next day where we left off. When we got to the part where my mom prepared a wicker basket for the kittens, Johnny’s eyes lit up and said, “A kosarnyi kiscica,” which means: “A basketful of kittens.” When I wrote this story into a children’s book last year, in memory of little Johnny, I gave the book the title that he came up with: “A Basketful of Kittens.” I never had a chance to tell him the end of the story. The next day, there were only a few minutes left to tell him how Daniel and I dealt with the neighborhood bullies, but when I entered little Johnny’s room that morning, his bed was empty. Work in progress I'm planning to publish two short stories in June, I'll tell you more about the stories in my next newsletter. As always, happy reading! |
To me, the humble Lily of the Valley is a great representation of motherhood. They don't draw attention but they make you feel wonderful and loved with their amazing fragrance. We celebrate Mother's Day once a year but we feel their unconditional love every day.
My mom is in Heaven but she lives in my heart.
| |
Let me share some exciting news | |
This blog-hop is not only a fun way to discover new authors,
but you can win Gift Cards too.
| |
I published two books recently | |
|
A thought-provoking, futuristic, romantic short story.
Will people feel the emotions of loss in the future as deeply as we do today?
How far will they be willing to go in finding the happiness they lost?
Caleb lost his Valerie. Will he find her?
Available on many publishing sites in eBook for introductory price:
99 cents
| |
| |
|
A short excerpt from the book | |
The bright Spring sun bathed the budding trees with warm sunshine and tickled the grassroots to life. Petals fallen from the magnolia tree covered the ground, but the slight breeze sent chills through Valerie. The young, slender woman with long, brown hair wrapped herself inside a warm sweater.
When she reached her destination in the secluded corner of the cemetery, tears welled up in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the name, Caleb Winston, carved into the marble gravestone. Everyone keeps telling me I should be over the mourning period by now. She thought, sighing deeply. As she sat down on the bench by the side of the grave, she let the tears fall for the first time in a week.
She allowed herself to cry only when she’d made her weekly walk to the cemetery. She hid her sadness and tears from her family and friends. They kept telling her she was only eighteen and had her whole life ahead of her, so there was no reason for her to hold on to the boy she once loved.
They aren’t the ones who lost the only person they could ever imagine loving. Such was her thought as she ran her tongue over her upper lip, tasting the salty tears. She fished a handful of tissues from her purse, wiped her face and blew her nose, whispering under her breath, “None of them believe in soulmates, Cal, and I can’t get them to listen to me when I try to tell them what it was like between us. Not even my sisters understand. Mom and Dad keep telling me there’s someone else out there for me, and I know they’re saying it in the belief it should help, but it doesn’t. It just makes me think of you more, and of the future, we planned together before it all fell apart.”
| |
|
A collection of humorous anecdotes, heartwarming stories, and slice-of-life tales that evoke a wide range of emotions.
Short stories about life’s humorous, happy, and dark moments.
Some of the stories are from my years in nursing, Steve's clumsiness and my cooking disasters might make you spit out your coffee laughing. The stories of my pets will put a warm smile on your face, and the stories about life's darker moments might make you wipe a tear or two.
| |
| |
|
As a young nurse in Hungary, I worked in the pediatric unit for a short while. Johnny was a nine-year-old cute as a button little boy who had leukemia. The medications and treatments wiped him out physically and emotionally, but he still had a sweet smile for everyone who entered his room.
Restrained sobs choked me every time I saw his pale, angelic little face and heard him say, “Hello, beautiful. Give me that shot quickly and tell me a story.” (His father was a flirt and he imitated him by calling the nurses beautiful or gorgeous.)
Our storytelling sessions started when he had a very bad day after chemo, and the medications didn’t work to suppress his nausea and headache. All I could do was sit by his bed, hold his hand and wait for the stronger medication to kick in. To break the silence and get his attention away from heaving and pain, I started reciting a fairy tale. “Once upon a time...”
As I continued the story, his breathing slowed, and he hung onto every word, seemingly forgetting his pain and misery for a few minutes.
The story with medicine became our routine. One morning, because I didn’t remember any more fairy tales that I had read as a child, I started telling him my childhood memories.
One of my fondest memories was how my best friend and I saved four drowning kittens when a cruel neighbor threw them into the river.
Johnny grew weaker and weaker and could listen to the story only a few minutes at a time, but he remembered the next day where we left off. When we got to the part where my mom prepared a wicker basket for the kittens, Johnny’s eyes lit up and said, “A kosarnyi kiscica,” which means: “A basketful of kittens.”
When I wrote this story into a children’s book last year, in memory of little Johnny, I gave the book the title that he came up with: “A Basketful of Kittens.”
I never had a chance to tell him the end of the story. The next day, there were only a few minutes left to tell him how Daniel and I dealt with the neighborhood bullies, but when I entered little Johnny’s room that morning, his bed was empty.
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| |
I'm planning to publish two short stories in June, I'll tell you more about the stories in my next newsletter. | |
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|
As always, happy reading! | |
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